


relief

by cosmicwarden (necrotype)



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 20:51:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14756099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necrotype/pseuds/cosmicwarden
Summary: for a tumblr prompt request - "hashimada + kissing with relief"





	relief

**Author's Note:**

> (obviously i'm very original with my titles)

Madara arrived a week late from his mission, which was fortunate, as Hashirama was seriously considering tracking the man down himself despite his advisors’ pleas to stay calm.

(Foolish, really; when was Hashirama ever level-headed when it came to Madara?)

But Madara came back before Hashirama could do anything drastic, walking through Hashirama’s front door just as the sun started to set and the rain lightened up to a mist. Not that it was just Hashirama’s house anymore, not really; Madara spent more nights over than not, and that made the recent emptiness of the bed even worse.

His sudden appearance caught Hashirama off-guard; he was never a particularly good sensor. One moment he was sitting at his desk, tiredly finishing up paperwork, and the next Madara was on the other side of the room, haphazardly dropping his gunbai to the ground with a loud clatter.

“Oh,” Hashirama said, and Madara quirked an eyebrow at him as he quietly came around the desk.

Hashirama watched Madara intently, by habit looking for anything amiss. His hair seemed more out of place than usual, a tangled mess that refused to stay out of his face, and he had the faintest bruise already blooming red on his left cheek. There was a new cut there too, one bordering on a gash that had just barely closed up, and Hashirama was so distracted looking at it that he was surprised when Madara slid his hands up Hashirama’s neck to rest gently on his jaw and kissed him.

“I think you still have blood on your gloves,” Hashirama said, thoughtful, when Madara straightened up to look at him properly. He touched a finger to his neck, and it came away sticky and red.

“Shit,” Madara mumbled. His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken in a few days. He looked down at his gloves and began to wipe them on his pants, as if that was the proper solution, before taking them off and throwing them behind him with a huff of air that felt warm on Hashirama’s face.

Hashirama’s laugh was reflexive. It bubbled out of his throat before he could stop it; he felt almost lightheaded seeing Madara again, dizzy and suddenly wide awake.

Madara blinked owlishly at him, and then his face morphed into a scowl. A softened version that he reserved for Hashirama, so that it didn’t convey any real anger or frustration, but a scowl all the same.

Hashirama cut him off before he could speak. “No, no, I’m not laughing at you. Well, I am a little bit, but I just—I missed you.”

He curled his fingers around Madara’s shoulder tightly, squeezed a bit for a moment, and then he pulled Madara down and brushed a kiss against his bruised cheek. Under his lips, Hashirama could feel Madara’s muscles twitch as he smiled, before Madara tilted his face so they could kiss properly.

They were both breathless when he pulled away, and Hashirama couldn’t seem to stop himself from grinning widely at Madara. “You know, I really did miss you. And I’m not sure that was enough to make up for the fact that you were essentially missing for a week, so—”

Madara rolled his eyes, but he leaned closer anyway, and Hashirama laughed into his lips.


End file.
